


Down to Business

by fractualized



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Featuring a random cameo by Max Schreck, Innuendo, M/M, Masturbation, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post Vigilante Route, Power Dynamics, Roughness, Sexual Roleplay, Unprotected Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractualized/pseuds/fractualized
Summary: John meets Bruce for lunch at Wayne Enterprises, and Bruce's command as CEO inspires John to apply for a position, wink wink, nudge nudge, heyooooo.Or, there is not enough Bruce/John roleplay fic.
Relationships: John Doe/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 21
Kudos: 151





	Down to Business

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some ridiculous porn.
> 
> Could take place some time after Worth the Wait or Enclosed, I suppose, but any John-leaves-Arkham-again universe you'd like to conjure will do.

The first time John visited Bruce at Wayne Enterprises– the first time since his second release from Arkham, that was– he'd been anxious. It wouldn't matter that security knew John was coming; they'd only care that John had been involved in a theft and assault in that very building ages ago. They'd kick him out. He'd be humiliated. It would take all he had to subdue the resulting anger.

When the scenario actually played out, the security staff had only been professional, minus a dirty look or two. They gave John a visitor badge and let him take the elevator upstairs by himself, just as Bruce instructed. Then Bruce's secretary, Saskia, at her post outside his office, urged John to "go right on in, Mr. Doe." _Mr. Doe._ And he and Bruce had a nice lunch together, one of their first real dates outside of Arkham.

Several dozen lunches later, John felt infinitely comfortable waltzing into Wayne Tower. He swept into the lobby dramatically swathed in his new purple poncho and wearing slim-fitting pinstriped periwinkle trousers. The heels of his fuschia boots clipped against the floor.

"Gregory, my good man," he said as he strode up to the desk, "I do believe I have an appointment."

"Whoever with," Greg said tonelessly, typing into his computer.

John tilted down his lemon yellow sunglasses. "Uh, Bruce. Who else?"

Greg scrunched his face and looked over. "I know. I–" He shook his head. "Clara, get his badge."

John grinned at the burly woman standing against the wall behind Greg. She had one hand hooked into her pocket and the other eternally attached to the taser on her hip. "Hi, Clarabella!"

Keeping her narrowed eyes on him, she grabbed the badge clipped to her pocket and pulled it on a retractable line to a sensor on the wall. A panel popped open with several photo badges for frequent visitors, and– still not looking– she grabbed one. She let her own badge zip back to her hip and held out John's at arm's length.

John had no problem stretching to reach it, laying across the desk and kicking his legs up behind him. He plucked the card from her hand. "Thanks, Clara!" he chirped, tilting back onto his heels. "See ya, Greg!" he added as he tapped over to the elevator.

After using the card on the elevator sensor, he stuck it in his back pocket. He was supposed to clip the badge on his clothes in full view, but it wasn't like no one knew who he was. The car stopped a few times on the way up, and he greeted everyone who came aboard and bid farewell to everyone who got off. He arrived at the CEO floor alone and tossed a greeting to Saskia. She looked busy on the computer but flashed him a sweetheart smile as he passed.

The office doors were open and John strolled right in, perching his sunglasses in his hair. "Hello, Brucie-baby!"

Bruce had been sitting back in his chair, pensively staring at some report or contract or court summons or whatever on the monitor to his right. At the sight of John, he smiled and straightened up.

"There you are," he said, getting to his feet. He'd fit his suit jacket on the back of the chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

"Here I am!" John chirped as they met halfway between the desk and the door. He planted a kiss on Bruce's cheek. "To distract you from the corporate gloom."

Bruce laughed and looked John over. "I thought we were going to order in."

"We are," John said, unclipping his poncho and unveiling a navy blue henley, buttons left open as always. "There's no reason I can't look lovely anyway."

"As if you ever don't."

With a grin, John slung the poncho around Bruce and pulled him closer. "Keep talking, buddy."

Bruce leaned in. "It's a shame no one else will see–"

"Bruce Wayne!"

John and Bruce turned to the open doors. A tall man in a gray suit walked in purposefully with Saskia at his heels. He had slicked-back white hair and a smile he clearly believed to be super charming. Saskia did not look charmed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne," she said. "I informed Mr. Schreck that you are indisposed."

Schreck, Schreck… Ah, now John could place him. Another Gotham businessman, not on Wayne level, but a recognizable name. He must have gained that recognition with the cojones it took to barge into Bruce Wayne's office despite Bruce already having an appointment of _clear_ import.

Bruce pulled the poncho from John's grip and draped it over his arm. "Max, I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"Not for three weeks, I know, while all the pencil pushers do their tedious thing in preparation," Schreck said. "Ultimately, I find it tiresome compared to being just what we are: men of action."

"Saskia can look into pushing up the–"

"Oh, Wayne, come on." Schreck made an offhand gesture to John. "The domestic stuff's sweet, lovely, but you can partake any time. Tremendous deals are one-time opportunities."

John could see in Bruce's eyes that if it were entirely up to him, he'd throw Schreck out on his kiester right now. But the rest of his face held the placidness of the figurehead of a trillion-dollar corporation who had to answer to stockholders and all sorts of other parties.

Glaring at Schreck, John took his poncho back from Bruce and grumbled, "If it's important..."

Bruce placed a hand on John's lower back. "If Max doesn't think all the background work is important, then I'm sure his pitch won't take long."

"Absolutely," Schreck replied. "How about your dear Doe waits outside? He can exchange beauty tips with lovely Sasha."

" _Saskia_ ," John said shortly, and he probably would rather hang out with her, but he didn't like the way Schreck said it. He especially didn't like the phrase "dear Doe" coming out of anyone who wasn't Bruce.

Bruce's smile was tense. "Nonsense. The couch is right over there."

John pointedly lifted his nose at Schreck as he followed Saskia to the seating area. She took his poncho to hang up in the hall and closed the doors behind her as she left. John sat heavily on the cushion furthest into the room, trying to make the leather squeak as much as possible. Bruce and Schreck didn't look over as they settled in their figurative corners: Bruce back behind his desk and Schreck in the lone chair placed four feet away.

John pulled his phone from his back pocket and slouched as he scrolled through social media. He boredly flagged a couple makeup reviews to check out later, silently added "LOL" to the stream of praise under a pic of a fashion try-hard, expressionlessly watched a looping gif of cavorting hyenas, mentally critiqued a video of a teenager doing butterfly knife tricks, absently muted the angry responses to his LOL, and liked a photo of sugar-dusted lemon tarts dyed all colors of the rainbow. Then he came upon a simple meme, just a glittery pink-to-blue background with the words: "Don't let anyone dull your sparkle!" 

Hey, yeah! He sat up straight. He shouldn't let Schreck think that he'd successfully asserted himself over the room, and he should be telegraphing emotional support for his boyfriend.

But Schreck faced Bruce as he made his pitch, and Bruce politely focused on him, elbows on the desktop and fingers steepled in front of his mouth. John slouched again and resumed swiping and jabbing at his phone.

He caught the gist of their discussion. Schreck had a great deal for licensing and distribution of Wayne Enterprises doohickies, but Bruce still wanted the deal vetted by his underlings. But and how about, said Shreck. Yet and because, said Bruce. Yadda yadda, whatever, the five minutes had eaten up too much lunchtime.

"Are you joking?!" Bruce erupted.

John blinked and turned his head. Bruce had crossed from terse to pissed off. He sat forward in his fancy chair, one hand gripping an armrest like he was about to lunge out of his seat. He held tight, sleeve straining to contain his bicep, veins arising on his forearm. The placidness was long gone.

"That's not an offer; it's an insult!" he growled, practically baring his teeth. The glare canceled out the brightness of his blue eyes.

Barred from the vigilante game, John rarely got to see Bruce so aggressive anymore. There were only blips in news footage and security camera clips posted online. Third best was when John got to watch Bruce train in the batcave, because second best was when Bruce tried to spar with him. "Tried," as in they usually ended up panting together on the floor. The "sparring" didn't happen so much anymore. Bruce said it was because he needed to actually train, but he just didn't want to talk about the time Tiffany walked in on them.

And if John couldn't convince Bruce to keep doing something he clearly enjoyed doing, there was no way this jackass was going to save this negotiation.

"Come on, Bruce," Schreck tried, "don't be so–"

Bruce stood up and slammed his fist on the desk. "Get the hell out of my office!"

Schreck held his head high as he got up and turned away, but his eyes were hollow with defeat. John happily waggled his fingers in goodbye as Schreck stalked past him, jerked open one of the doors, and left.

Bruce dropped into his chair as his sigh traveled across the room. "Sorry about that."

"Sorry?" John giggled as he shut the door. "Why?"

"I should have just kicked him out to start with."

"But then I would've missed the show!" John practically skipped across the marble floor. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, I hope you provide good health coverage. I'm feeling palpitations!"

Bruce snorted. "That would only help if you worked here."

"Then let's start with an interview!" John climbed onto the desk, heedless of the assorted papers, and gripped the edge as he leaned toward Bruce. "I think having you as a boss would be verrrrrry exciting."

Bruce hadn't moved but he smiled. "How am I going to get any work done now that I have this image in my head?"

John sat up on his knees, letting his thighs spread, and tilted his head. He nervously chewed the tip of his index finger. "What do you mean?" he asked in his most clueless tone.

Then he giggled, breaking character already, but Bruce's smile changed, and John knew he would play.

Bruce reached over to his desk phone and buzzed Saskia on speaker. "Get two orders of the usual from Vincenzo's," he said, "but hold onto it. I'll grab it when we're ready to eat."

Then he hit the button that locked the doors.

* * *

Saskia replied briefly and professionally, and Bruce knew that later she'd pretend she hadn't heard the resonant click of the lock. He'd fooled around in the office in the past, though he crossed the line at fraternizing with employees. If John wanted to slip into that role, however, Bruce was willing to indulge him.

"Well, Mr. Doe," he said disapprovingly, plucking the sunglasses off John's head, "I'm already concerned about your awareness of office decorum." 

"I thought they were cute decor!" John replied.

Bruce set the glasses by the keyboard, then leaned back in his chair. "I also can't say I have confidence in your ability to adhere to office etiquette."

John swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the desk and crossed his ankles. "Think of it as a demonstration of my ability to think outside the box!"

"And have you demonstrated this in other positions you've held?"

"Oh, certainly, Mr. Wayne." John's eyes glittered. "I've held many difficult positions, always with great reward. It helps to have a commanding boss."

Bruce nodded seriously. "But what if I need you to take initiative?"

"I'm very adaptable." John stuck out a leg and nudged Bruce's chest with his boot. "I aim to please."

Bruce rolled back slightly to give John enough room to slide off the desk and onto his knees. John moved in close, sliding his hands up Bruce's thighs.

"We have very high standards," Bruce said as he lowered his hands to the arm rests.

"I do hope you'll correct me if my performance isn't up to par." John unfastened Bruce's belt and opened his pants in short order. "I expect there's a standard disciplinary procedure."

"Usually handled by HR," Bruce said as his shirt was untucked. He suppressed a groan when John's hand dipped into his pants. "I think I can handle you personally."

"Ooooo, special treatment already," John said with a smirk. He pulled out Bruce's half-hard cock with his right hand, while his left anchored on the waist of Bruce's pants and boxers, tugging downward. "This interview is going well."

"I'll tell you if it's going well," Bruce said with a steely look.

"Forgive my impertinence," John replied, smirk falling away as if he felt chastened.

But of course he didn't. He licked his palm, and his eyes gleamed when his fingers wrapped back around the dick he knew so well. He began steadily pumping his hand. The spit did little to heat his cool fingers, but Bruce knew from experience that they would warm up soon enough. His blood was already rushing south, and he grew stiffer in John's grip.

John let out a coo. "There we are," he said to the leaking glans craning toward his mouth. "Oh, the big projects are the most exciting."

"Your job isn't to be excited," Bruce replied as the adoration in John's eyes made the muscles in his abdomen twitch.

"I'll act with the utmost professionalism," John promised.

Still stroking, he wrapped his red lips around the head, lapping his tongue over the tip just once before pulling off. Bruce barely held in a gasp at the flash of wet heat.

"I suppose a light touch won't do for this project," John mused. "It's a lot to handle." His grip tightened. "Needs much more attention."

Bruce didn't respond, did his best to play the disaffected boss who needed to be impressed, while watching his cock slide back between John's lips. He exhaled slowly and silently as he felt the drag along the roof of John's mouth, further and further back to his throat. John moved his hand out of the way and squeezed Bruce's thigh instead.

He looked up as he bobbed his head, eyes big and eager, and it was a wonder Bruce could keep a stoic expression. John was so driven to make Bruce feel good and so pleased when he succeeded, a reality that wasn't very far from this fantasy. (And it was still just fantasy, Bruce reassured himself later, when his imagination took it further: keeping John in the closet or under the desk, like a pet whose entire happy purpose was to satisfy his master's sexual whims.)

Bruce allowed his hips to buck forward once, and John made a sound that was at once surprised and thrilled. His head bobbed faster, taking Bruce nearly to the root, and Bruce could no longer silence his heavy breathing. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, enjoying the rhythmic suction. John curled his tongue along the underside of Bruce's cock and started to make little noises too, whimpers deep in his throat that Bruce swore he could feel.

He also felt his pants rubbing against him again. Bruce looked down. John's left hand had disappeared under the chair to touch himself.

"Is that authorized?" Bruce growled.

Disappointment flashed in John's eyes, but he hooked his hand in Bruce's pocket. He sucked faster in apology, the sound becoming slicker as spit collected around his lips.

God, it was so good, but Bruce had promised discipline. He snagged John's hair and started to thrust, barely holding the chair in place with his free hand. John took it well– he always took it so well– breathing harshly through his nose as Bruce fucked his mouth, nails nearly clawing through Bruce's pants. He'd left marks that way before, sucking Bruce off like this, when the experience looked so unpleasant but as soon as his mouth was free, he'd sighed with a pretty flutter of his eyelids.

Bruce felt a spike in his gut and forced himself to stop and pull John's head back. John still looked up at him eagerly, having the time of his life regardless of his labored breaths. A lingering string of spit from his swollen lips to Bruce's cock broke and hit his chin. Bruce reached down and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, and the snap of seams was barely audible under John's yelp as he was hauled up onto the desk. His ass landed on the edge, and he flattened his hands on the top before he could fall onto his back.

John's tight pants were still buttoned. He'd only been palming himself before. The desperate image nearly tipped Bruce over the edge, and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, still holding John's shirt. There was more to play out.

Bruce leaned in close enough for a kiss, but stopped just short. "This is a dress code violation," he said, tracing the tear in John's sleeve under his right arm. "It has to go."

"I'm sorry, sir," John said quickly. He lifted his arms, and Bruce pulled the shirt off. Bruce then went for the button on John's pants, and John leaned back again. "Oh, dear, everything?"

Usually they yanked each other's clothes off, but this strict CEO needed to be methodical, to feign near disinterest, even while his exposed cock was obviously interested. Bruce strayed from John's zipper to tug off his boots first, one by one, then same with his socks. He unhurriedly slid John's pants down his legs, leaving the briefs behind to up the anticipation. John's eager erection pressed against the thin fabric, leaving a dark spot. When Bruce pulled the waistband down, he let it drag along the sensitive flesh, and John gasped quietly as his penis sprang free. At the sound, Bruce felt a bead of cum dribble down his shaft.

He tossed the underwear into the pile on the floor and took in John's naked body. He toyed with the idea of ordering his applicant to lie back, standing between his spread legs, bending close with a severe reminder not to touch himself. He imagined his knuckles brushing against John's cock as he jerked off onto John's stomach, and the other man's frustrated whine.

Bruce filed the idea away for another time. The original plan was tempting in itself. He opened the desk's lowest righthand drawer.

"You have a uniform I should change into?" John giggled.

"This suits you for now."

"If you insist." John crossed his arms over his chest and pelvis in an insincere attempt to cover himself. His erection stuck out just under his forearm, and he started swinging his legs a little. "What's next? A typing test?"

Bruce closed the drawer and dropped some packets of lube by John's hip. "You seem interested in... working independently. I want to see how you do."

John only glanced at the packets. "Oh, I think I was doing very well with a partner."

Bruce didn't assent. "Maybe. I'd like to compare."

"Hmmm…" John swung a leg up around Bruce's hip. "I dunno."

Bruce stepped away and sat back in the chair. "I do. Go on."

John's shoulders went a little stiff. "Br–Mr. Wayne, I'm a little concerned about... the lack of employee incentives."

Bruce let his stern look fade into a soft smile. He got up again, took hold of John's chin, and kissed him, starting slow but quickly going deep, until he felt John relax again.

"You'll get everything you need at the end of the interview," Bruce promised, "if you're still interested in applying."

Lips now smudged, John fought back a pleased smile. "Hm, you should hope I don't look at any other offers." He opened one of the packets and squirted it onto his left hand.

Bruce sat back down for the show. "Nothing is better than a Wayne package."

John tittered and propped himself up on his right hand. His lubed fingers began with firm strokes. "Oh ho, so I've heard. Still, is it worth the overtime?"

Bruce watched the head of John's cock slide in and out of his fist. "Slower."

John curled his fingers against the desk and did as he was told, drawing each slide out. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, pausing to tease his frenulum.

"How badly do you want this job?" Bruce asked.

John's eyes locked on Bruce's straining cock. "Real bad," he breathed.

"That doesn't make you the best candidate."

"I'll do whatever you say," John said with a shuddering breath. "I'll sit under your desk during meetings and– no, in the open. You can"– he giggled– "feed your cock to me, and I'll let everyone know how good it is."

Christ. Bruce almost gave in and started touching himself. He swallowed. "Meetings can go for quite a long time."

"So can I," John insisted. "I'll always take whatever you give me, no matter how worn out I am." His tongue wet his lips as he rolled his thumb over his tip.

"Hm. Show me more."

"I still think this works best as a team effort," John said breathily.

"Can you not follow instructions, Mr. Doe?"

With a huff, John laid on his back. He snatched up another lube packet, and after a moment he propped his heels on the desk as his right hand reached down. He prodded at his hole and pressed in his index finger with a sigh, knowing that Bruce meant slow for this, too.

"Talk about a task being in the pipeline," John said with a tight laugh as he started jerking off again.

The muscles in his legs and arms visibly tensed as he slowly fucked himself. He undulated his hips deliberately, trying to get more from the languid pace. It seemed to be working; he gasped, toes curling.

Bruce clenched the base of his cock. He let out a low hiss. "Another."

John immediately pushed another finger in and whimpered. "Faster?"

"No."

"It's... good practice to… to reach out for assistance... when you need it."

"You seem to be handling it fine."

John let out a laugh. "Then I should just go at my own pace."

He shoved a third finger in, going deep, and he cried out as he feverishly pumped his hand. He'd decided to come out of spite, and Bruce almost laughed.

Instead he got up and grabbed both John's wrists. Just as he'd hauled John onto the desk, he pulled him off it. John barely landed on his feet before Bruce spun him around and shoved his right hand into John's back, bending him over the desk. The pale man instantly curled his fingers over the far edge.

"So insubordinate," Bruce said, "and then so eager. Terrible negotiation tactic."

John rolled his hips back, or tried to, against the immobilizing grip of Bruce's left hand. His ass just brushed the tip of Bruce's cock. "I'll take it," he gasped, then whined, "I'll take anything!"

Bruce stepped closer to rub his shaft along John's cleft, enjoying the moan he drew out. "I thought you had other offers," he said.

John shook his head. "Doesn't matter if there were."

Bruce moved the hand on John's hip to firmly grasp his ass cheek, pulling it aside to tease John's entrance with his thumb. "That's not how it sounded."

John spread his legs wider. "This is all I want to do," he begged, throwing his head back. "Please, Mr. Wayne, I need you to give it to me."

That was all Bruce wanted to do, so he finally did, gripping his dick by the base as he pressed the head in. He paused to clutch both of John's hips, then pushed slowly inside. Somehow the tightness and heat was always better than he anticipated.

John groaned, head tipping forward, clenching reflexively before relaxing again. "Yessss…"

Bruce watched the last inch of his cock sink into John's body. He took some steadying breaths, giving John time to adjust, until an appropriate line came to him through the thick fog of arousal.

"Is this a good fit for you, Mr. Doe?"

A noise between a chuckle and a purr came out of John's throat. "Perfect."

Bruce snapped his hips, immediately starting a quick rhythm, plunging his cock in and out like a rich prick chasing his own pleasure would– and John loved it. His delighted cries matched the hectic pace. He tried to thrust back and let out a breathless laugh when Bruce kept holding him still.

"Is th-that satis… factory, Mr… Mr. Wayne?" he panted.

"You tell me," Bruce growled, intently watching John's body engulf him. He was sure to pull out nearly all the way before driving back in, so John felt the whole length of him.

"It's s-so gooood," John moaned. "Please… sir... ngh, harder..."

Bruce silently agreed and used both hands to spread John open, to spear as deep as he could reach. John howled into the mahogany. Between that and the sharp slapping sounds, Bruce was grateful for soundproofing.

John's erection was caught between his stomach and the desk, but Bruce didn't reach for it, and John didn't try. John was doing what he was told, being good for Bruce, always so good. Bruce thrusted even harder, pelvis smacking harshly against John's ass. No doubt that got John a little more friction, but only enough to make his frustration worse, yet that was what he wanted, for Bruce Wayne to call the shots.

"Yes yes _yes_ ," John chanted, pressing his forehead down.

The tension in Bruce's gut rocketed toward its peak, and he dug his fingers into John's hips. He rammed home a few final times, thrusts short but iron hot, and choked back a gasp as he emptied into John. John pressed his cheek against the desk and smiled, eyes closed. Bruce groaned then, at how much John loved being his, inside and out, and slowly rolled his hips a final time before steadily pulling out. He felt a blend of euphoria and shame and possessiveness when John bit his lip and whimpered. Bruce wanted him to feel the loss.

That was the thing that became deliriously clear in these moments: how much Bruce wanted John to need him.

He flipped John around, leaving him to clumsily balance against the desk, and dropped to his knees. Bruce took John's weeping pink-tinged cock into his mouth and sucked urgently, clutching the backs of John's thighs as he stared up at his face. John looked back, looked _wrecked_ , hair wild and mouth slack. He grabbed Bruce's hair as an almost distressed sound eked from his throat.

"Th-that's..." John gasped. "Ah… God, Bruce."

Bruce allowed the weight sliding along his tongue to reach the back of his throat. He snuck one hand up John's leg and pushed three fingers into his stretched, leaking opening. It wasn't a replica of Bruce's cock but certainly a good enough reminder. John's hips responded instantly, taking the fingers deeper and thrusting his dick between Bruce's lips at a faster pace.

John had just one hand on the edge of the desk for leverage, and he held on for all he was worth. He pulled Bruce's hair at the roots, and his grin stretched wide. "This is... wuh-one hell of a... workplace perk."

Bruce angled his fingers, pressing harder against John's prostate, and any composure John had left deteriorated. He keened with each flex of Bruce's throat, until he finally threw his head back and came with a groan. Bruce dutifully swallowed every spurt.

John's hand relaxed, petting Bruce's hair instead of tearing at it, and Bruce let John's softened cock slip from his mouth. He pulled his fingers free and pressed a kiss to John's hip before getting to his feet. Maintaining an air of imperiousness was a challenge with his own spent dick hanging out of his pants, but Bruce thought he managed. He took John into his arms for a kiss, and John clung to his shirt as he licked his taste out of Bruce's mouth.

Bruce pulled away to breathe, and John slumped back, clutching the desk again, creating the explicit image that would haunt Bruce's office hours: John naked and panting, hair mussed, lipstick a smear across his mouth. Bruises from the desk's edge and Bruce's hands were already coloring his thighs and hips.

Maybe it would help to replace the desk.

With a long, satisfied sigh, John ran his fingers through his hair. "Would you say I aced this interview, Mr. Wayne?" he asked smugly.

Bruce traced the marks on John's hips. "I don't think I can give you the job. You really are too distracting."

John put on a sneer of disbelief. "Well, of course I am when you have my dick in your mouth."

Bruce laughed and pulled John against him.

"If I can't screw my way to the top," John murmured into Bruce's chest, "I'll sue this place to the ground."

"Can I convince you to enter private arbitration?" Bruce asked, groping John's ass.

John lifted his head. "This management is incorrigible." His indignant look dropped into curiosity. "But do you mean there'd be an attorney joining us, or…?"

Bruce wasn't sure if that was a joke or if John was interested in the idea. Before he could give it more consideration, a quiet garbled noise sounded between them.

John snickered, holding his stomach. "Do we still have time to eat?"

* * *

Sunglasses back in place, John exited the elevators into the lobby. He was all put together again, but the feel of the torn shirt hidden under his poncho put a pep in his step. As he passed the front desk, he gave his disheveled hair a toss as well as his badge. Clara lurched forward to catch the card, and it bounced off her hands and bopped Greg on the head. John spun on one heel and walked backwards to shoot finger guns at them.

"You two have a fantastic afternoon!" he said with a wink before spinning back around.

The security team watched blankly as he strutted to the revolving door and did a full circuit before skipping outside.

Greg hesitated. "So do you think–"

"Don't ask dumb questions," Clara said.  
  
  



End file.
